Sunday
by sabotouri
Summary: She died on a Sunday.
1. Chapter 1

She died on a Sunday.

He heard the doctor ("-massive loss of blood. We did everything we could, but-") and nodded, not taking his eyes off the tile.

"Arthur?" Dr. Finn asked gently, laying his hand on Arthur's shoulder. "I'm-"

"My wife." Arthur looked at the doctor. "When can I see my wife?"

Dr. Finn sighed and patted Arthur's back. "Son…"

Arthur glanced at the old man and narrowed his eyebrows. "When can I see Ariadne? She's not going to be taking this well, I need to be there when she wakes up."

"Arthur. She's gone."

Arthur stared at the doctor like he'd grown a third eye.

"My wife. I need to see my wife. My wife…"

Arthur's shoulders began to shake as tears spilled down his cheeks. He crumpled forward, grabbing his knees as sobs wracked his body.

His cries echoed down the hallway, reaching Cobb and Eames in the waiting room. Cobb closed his eyes, rubbing his temples. Eames could do little more than stare straight ahead.

"That poor baby," Cobb sighed. "God, that poor baby."

Eames nodded, a thousand thoughts running through his mind. "I… I don't know what to do."

"I don't either."

"Mr. Cobb?"

Cobb and Eames turned to face the voice in the doorway, meeting eyes with the slight nurse that had called his name. She came and sat across from Cobb, her face already waxing pity.

"What happened?"

"She started to hemorrhage and…"

"I don't understand, did they knick her or something?"

"I'm sorry?"

"How could the baby hemorrhage? I don't understand."

The nurse's mouth dropped a little, looking first at Eames, then back at Cobb.

"Mr. Cobb, the baby is fine."

"I thought you just said-"

"Mr. Cobb."

It hit him like a truck at the same time it dawned on Eames. The color ran from Cobb's face, as his eyes grew wide. Eames dropped his head with a muffled cough.

"My God, how?"

"There was a clot and-"

"I'm sorry," Eames interrupted. "I'm sorry, I just… I'm sorry. I'm not following this. How is the baby?"

"She's fine."

"And Ariadne?"

"Sir-"

And there it was. The realization they'd all been ignoring. She was an architect in one of the most dangerous fields in the world and she'd been felled by a blood clot. It was the most bitter irony imaginable. Cobb just mouthed wordlessly, looking from the nurse to his hands to Eames, who was shaking a little, his face buried in his hands.

"I'm sorry."

"I need to see her," Eames said suddenly, standing up.

"Sir, I'm sorry, only her husband is allowed to see her bo-"

"Not Ariadne, the baby," Eames interrupted, shuttering.

The nurse said nothing in response, which Eames took as permission, following her through the doors and into the hallway opposite where Arthur and the doctor were. It was a short walk to the nursery, where rows upon rows of babies squirmed and wailed.

It was like nails on a chalkboard, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. So much life, so much happiness in the midst of their sadness, their disbelief. He needed to see the baby, not because he was particularly fond of children, but because he needed to see some part of Ariadne.

The nurse instructed him to wash his hands and put a gown on before leading him to the end of the last row.

"Here you go," she said, stopping in front of the tiny bassinet. Wrapped in a pink and blue blanket, the little girl was staring right into his eyes, burning into his soul and he felt lost and found at the same time. He placed his hand on her chest, his palm nearly covering her entire body and just looked her, his eyebrows knitted together.

She was peachy and covered in what looked like a soft down. Her eyes were glazed and her head covered with a hat, though a flash of black hair dared to peek from underneath. She was, as far as he could tell, the spitting image of Arthur and that pained him.

Alone. In his entire life, he'd never felt so alone and he was sure that wasn't anywhere near what Arthur was feeling right now. His disbelief in God was reaffirmed, knowing that no good and benevolent God would steal a mother from her daughter so soon. Alone.

He stayed there for a long time, he wasn't sure how long, but when he realized the sun was setting, he found himself sitting in a chair, cradling the baby and fighting drooping eyes.

He knew he should put her back, let the nurses do their jobs, but he couldn't. He felt like he was holding Ariadne's hand again, about to fall into dreams and when he awoke, she'd be gone.

Eames stood and walked back to the bassinet, lying the sleeping babe down and searching the room for a nurse.

"Has her dad been in?" he asked, tugging his gown off and throwing it away. The nurse shook his head sadly.

"Still with the mother last I heard."

"Right."

Eames padded into the hallway, not surprised to find Cobb sitting outside the nursery on the floor, half asleep.

"I took the kids to Miles and Justine," he said. "I couldn't leave him here. Her parents are on the way, his sisters too. " Cobb looked up at Eames. "You were in there for an hour."

"Lost track of time," Eames replied, running his hand over his face and through his hair.

The two men sat in silence for a long time until the whoosh of the doors startled them. Arthur stood in front of the nursery window, his face pale and his eyes swollen.

"Which one is she?" he asked, his voice hoarse. Eames stood and pointed to the very back.

"She's the one not crying," he said, putting his arm around Arthur's shoulders. "Come on, mate."

Eames led his friend into the nursery, bypassing the sink and gowns, ignoring the nurse barking orders to the contrary, and stopped Arthur in front of his daughter's bassinet.

She was still asleep, her head turned to the left, swaddled tightly. Arthur swallowed the lump in his throat, running his finger over her cheek and smiling.

"What's her name?" Eames asked, putting his hands in his pockets.

"Addison," Arthur replied, picking the baby up and holding her close.

"Eh, not what I would have picked, but…"

Arthur smirked a little, rocking back and forth gently.

"I'll leave you be."

Arthur said nothing in response. Eames patted his back and left the nursery, signaling to Cobb that they could go.

As the two men crossed the parking lot towards their respective cars, daylight was extinguished.

She was born on a Sunday.


	2. Chapter 2

"_I don't feel good, honey," Ariadne said, shifting on the couch, attempting to get comfortable. Arthur nodded, not looking up from his newspaper. "Arthur, are you listening to me?"_

"_Mhmm," he sighed, peeking over the front page at his wife, whom he affectionately referred to as Pluto nowadays. "Not quite as big as a real planet," he joked, "but still with all the bells and whistles." _

"_You're a funny color."_

_He would play the scene over in his head a thousand times over the next few weeks. She complained that she didn't feel well, her face flushed, and she passed out._

_The ambulance got there fast enough, it seemed. Her pulse was weak and thready and her blood pressure was all over the place. By the time they got to the ER, it became clear that she'd thrown a clot._

_For an hour they worked, leaving Arthur to pace circles in the hallway. He'd texted Cobb when they'd left and was grateful when he showed up. He was slightly less happy to see Eames._

_After they'd chatted for a minute, Arthur had taken a seat right outside double doors leading down to surgery and waited. And waited and waited and waited. When Dr. Finn pushed through the metal barricades, Arthur knew something was wrong._

_He sat next to the young man and, for a long time, said nothing. _

"_She was very sick, Arthur. There was massive blood loss and we…"_

Coming home without her was the hardest part. Dr. Finn insisted on being in the room when Arthur packed Addison up to go home. He coached Arthur on what to expect and gave him a couple numbers he could call for counseling.

Dressed in a tiny white and blue eyelet dress with a white bonnet and white socks, Addison looked like a doll in her car seat. Once the nurse checked to make sure she was in correctly, Arthur and Dr. Finn walked downstairs and out to the car together.

Arthur turned the Honda on and snapped the car seat into the base before turning back to face the doctor.

"Take care, Arthur," he said, hugging the younger man. "Keep me updated on the baby and let me know about the service for Ariadne."

Arthur nodded, clapping him on the shoulder and sliding into the driver's seat. He adjusted his rearview mirror so he could see the baby in the two way and pulled out.

The ride home was usually a short one, made long by the fact he was going about twenty-five miles an hour. He pulled into the brick driveway and turned the car off. Arthur let his head fall forward, resting on the steering wheel and took four or five controlled breaths.

Addison began to whimper in the backseat, jarring Arthur from his thoughts.

"Are you ready to go inside?" he asked, the lack of emotion in his voice startling him. Not waiting for a response (not that he expected one), Arthur carried the car seat and the diaper bag into the house, glad to find that his sister's were already there.

Chelsea and Jenna were more than happy to ooh and ahh over the baby, leaving Arthur to do little more than watch. He felt truly lost, like he was watching his own life from outside. He made a sandwich and went out on the back porch, surprised to find Eames sitting on the steps, eating an apple.

"When did you get home?" he asked. Arthur sat down on the top step and shrugged.

"About half an hour ago. When did you get here?"

"Not long before that. Your sisters let me in."

Arthur scowled towards the kitchen. He didn't want company (yes, he did) and he definitely didn't want Eames here (that wasn't entirely true). He just wanted to go to sleep and wake up in eighteen years.

"How long did it take?" Arthur asked after a long minute. Eames grunted, not looking away from the squirrel crossing the yard.

"To what?"

"To not miss her?"

Eames said nothing, shrugging.

"Eames?"

"It hasn't happened yet."

Arthur sighed. It had been six years since Gabrielle died.

"Why are you here, Eames?"

"Because she isn't."

Arthur studied his friend for a long time. Eames never returned his stare, still watching the rodent scamper up and down the oak tree.

They'd seen little of each since the inception nearly six years ago. Cobb had tapped out the second they'd landed and as far as Arthur knew, Yusuf had caught the next flight home. Arthur and Ariadne got caught up in Cobol's loose strings and though it took six months on the lam, they'd ended up together with Eames in the Middle East until it was safe to go home. Arthur and Ariadne returned to Paris and moved on with life while Eames took a side trip to Bali to let Gabi go.

They'd gotten married three years later, because it seemed like the next step. They worked separately; Arthur was doing extractions for private companies and Ariadne was designing buildings with Saito's engineering department. When they'd gotten pregnant in the beginning of the year, they were neither happy, nor ready.

It took months before the idea became something they were excited about and in the last couple of weeks, with Ariadne on maternity leave and Arthur working as little as possible, they were positively giddy. They'd painted the nursery, entertained their family and toured the hospital.

Sitting next to Eames on the back porch, Arthur was a little disgusted by how big of a waste it had all been. He came home empty handed, with a broken heart and a baby he didn't know how to take care of.

"I don't know how to love her," Arthur said, looking at Eames.

"Who?"

"Addison. I don't know how to love my own child."

"You do too," Eames replied, leaning back against the banister. "You just don't know how to handle her."

"She's a baby. The practical part can't be that hard."

Eames chuckled. "Obviously it must, or you wouldn't be talking to me right now. We've not had a conversation that didn't pertain to work in some in… ever."

"If Jenna was sitting here, I'd be talking to her. Don't flatter yourself."

"Darling, I flatter myself at every opportunity," he grinned. Arthur shook his head.

"Never mind."

They sat in silence for another couple of minutes before the tension was interrupted by the back door opening. Addison was wailing at the top of her lungs. Jenna looked slightly panicked.

"I tried to feed her and changed her, but she won't stop." Jenna handed the baby to Arthur and went back inside, mumbling to herself.

Arthur propped Addison up on his legs, her head resting on his knees, and stared down at her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, holding her hands. Addison cried louder.

"I don't think she'll answer you, mate. And you probably shouldn't bark at her like she's a grown woman. She's three days old."

"I don't need your help," Arthur snapped, scaring Addison.

"All evidence to the contrary," Eames said. "She's just scared, Arthur. The only sound she's ever known is Ariadne's heartbeat."

Arthur said nothing in response, cradling the baby against his shoulder and shushing her gently. A minute or two later, she was asleep.

"I need to call the funeral home," Arthur said, more as an afterthought.

"Dom's taken care of everything, don't worry about it." Arthur nodded, his head swimming.

"I'm exhausted."

"I know."

As the sun burned down on the trio, Arthur was just glad to have made it through Tuesday.


	3. Chapter 3

His dreams were sparse, but his nightmares were even sparser. It had been nearly two years since Arthur had woken in the middle of the night, drenched from fear, screaming, and yet there he was, sweat beading on his forehead, mingling with tears on his cheeks.

He'd seen her die a thousand times that night, watched helplessly as his wife flat lined over and over again and the scream that started in his dream was now ringing in his ears.

He felt hands on his shoulder, shaking him roughly, and heard his own name being called, but it took a smack to wake him open completely. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to see Eames staring back at him, an inch from his face.

"Jesus, Arthur, are you okay?" he asked, letting go. Arthur nodded slowly, slumping back against the headboard. "You could have woken the whole neighborhood up."

"Addison, did I wake the baby up?" Arthur asked, coughing slightly. His throat was raw from yelling. Eames shook his head, standing back up. "Where are you going?"

"Back to bed, it's four AM," Eames yawned. "Just wanted to make sure you weren't dying."

Arthur realized for the first time that Eames was half naked, dressed in only pajama bottoms. Arthur narrowed his eyebrows and looked from Eames to the clock and back.

"Why are you here?"

"First you want to know where I'm going and now you want to know why I'm here. Thanks Mum," Eames said, smiling a little, stifling another yawn. "I never left. You crashed about six hours ago and the girls went home just a little while ago. I wasn't sure if you'd be able to hear the baby, so I stayed. Don't worry, I'm going home tomorrow when your mum gets here."

"No, I mean why are you here, in my house, at all? Why were you at the hospital, why are you still here?"

"Cobb called me to meet him," Eames said, crossing his arms over his bare chest. "And I already told you why I'm still here."

"But why does it matter to you?"

"Arthur, you're not the only person who was close to Ariadne," Eames said, his lips tight. Arthur looked down at his hands, feeling both sad and a little angry.

"Okay."

"I'm sorry Arthur, I just…"

"I said okay," Arthur sighed. "You can go back to bed. I have to check on the baby."

"She's fine. Chelsea fed her right before she left. I have the monitor in the guest room with me, just get some sleep."

Arthur didn't have a chance to thank him, or ask any other questions for that matter, as Eames left the room, muttering to himself, closing the door behind him.

He lay there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, fighting the lump in his throat and the growing loneliness. The sheets still smelled like her, something he was drawing not comfort but resent from. It was a cruel reminder that would fade eventually, like her memory he feared, and for now, served no purpose but to make him remember what he'd had.

He hated it, all of it, but what he hated the most was that he was completely helpless. He should have been dealing with the funeral home, not Dom and Miles and while he was grateful, he resented it. He should have been pounding the carpet with his newborn, not Eames and Jenna. No, he didn't need any help feeling inadequate right now.

Sighing, Arthur shoved out of bed and padded down the hall to the guest room, opening the door and slipping in silently. He unplugged the baby monitor and was about to leave when he noticed Eames' computer was open.

He crossed the room softly, checking to see if Eames was asleep (he was) and turned the screen towards him. His heart stopped almost immediately.

Eames had a photo album open, full of pictures of Ariadne, Arthur and their family. It was all the pictures she had sent him over the years, all neatly cataloged by date, something that surprised Arthur. The last picture was from a mere four days ago.

Six years. Six years they'd kept in contact and he didn't even know. As Arthur thumbed through the e-mail's and pictures, there was little to glean. Snippets of information passed back and forth, a smattering of memories he'd already forgotten. There were pictures from their wedding, from Christmases, from Padma's graduation party in Ratnapura. Black and white pictures, edited pictures saturated in color, every single one unique and familiar, every single one so completely her.

The color in his face had deepened and he thought for a minute he might cry again, but it was a different emotion than he'd felt the last few days. There she was, immortalized in film, her laugh infectious even without motion, her eyes glinting in the dry light of the computer screen. He ached for her, positively desperate to hear her voice and yet, looking at the photos, he could hear her.

_Eames-_

_Arthur and I found out that we're expecting. I wish I could say that we're excited, but you and I both know he isn't. I haven't decided how I feel yet._

_I hope you're well. Cobb says he saw you at Christmas._

_-Ariadne_

There it was, in her concise, simple words, the exchange that Arthur knew had changed the game. She had shared his insecurity with Eames and when Cobb had called him to come to the hospital, it wasn't for support, it was to relish in Arthur's awkwardness with the new baby.

He closed the laptop and sat back on his haunches, dropping his head. He was mad, maybe, but mostly sad, completely and totally sad. It was the truest pain he'd ever felt, all encompassing and it was beginning to manifest itself physically. As he stood to leave, Eames propped himself up on his elbow.

"She loved you," he said, clearly having seen the last few minutes unfold. "And for the love of God, I'm about to sound like a romance novel, but the way that she loved you will never be forgotten, not by you, not by your family, not by anyone. Now please, go to sleep and be thankful I've not beaten you within an inch of your life for reading my mail."

Arthur said nothing and stood to leave, stopping when Eames grabbed the monitor out of his hand.

"I'm serious, sleep. You have the next eighteen years to glutton for punishment and tomorrow is going to be hard enough as it is without you being exhausted. Jenna will be back in two hours, I really doubt Addie'll budge before then."

"Addison," Arthur said quickly. "Not Addie."

"Erm, okay, sorry," Eames said, plugging the monitor in beside his bed. "Night."

Arthur walked out, unsure why he was so bothered and flopped back into his own bed, conking out almost instantaneously.

"_Addie!"_

_Rajesh flew across the room, jumping and wrapping her knees around Ariadne's waist. Ariadne grinned, hugging the young girl tightly, smiling at Arthur over her shoulder as he traded hugs with Boda._

"_It's so good to see you! Marriage suits you well…"_

Waking with a start, Arthur took a few deep breaths, and curled up under the blanket, sure he'd not find sleep so easily this time.

* * *

When Arthur stumbled downstairs the next morning, he was relieved to hear voices and smell breakfast. When he turned into the kitchen, he was surprised to find as many people as he did. Ariadne's family (mom, dad and sister), his family (mom, sister's and Chelsea's husband and kids), Dom and his family and Eames all stood together, already dressed for the service, talking over coffee. The room grew silent when Arthur walked in, trading their small talk for sad gazes. He pointedly avoided their stares, pouring himself coffee and scooping Addison out of his mother's arms. He didn't stop the back door from slamming on the way out.

The cool air whisped around them as he crossed the backyard. He cuddled Addison close to his chest, sitting on the ground with his back against the fence, the sun barely over the horizon. He drank in silence, trading glances with the baby, who was halfway asleep.

"Today sucks," he said, setting the cup down on the grass and propping Addison up on his knees. "I know you have no idea what the means, but today is an awful day."

Addison blinked in response.

"Or maybe you do."

Blink.

"Those people in there? You're related to all of them. I know, unfortunate."

Drool.

"You look like my side of the family. My mom is the one that was holding you."

Sniffle.

"I guess you can call her Grandma."

Coo.

Arthur smiled. She liked that, the name Grandma. He ran his thumb over her lips, stroking her cheek and for the first time, was a little amazed. Of all the things he'd ever created, she was the most intricate. From the little creases on her face, to her willowy fingers, she was practically a dream. It seemed cruel that her first outing would be to her mother's funeral.

"No, it won't," he said out loud. Addison wrinkled her nose and yawned. "We're going to celebrate today, Addie."

Her nickname, the very one he'd chastised Eames for, sounded warm in his chest and he couldn't help but smile.

He would mourn her forever, he thought, but this, being there with his daughter, wasn't so bad.

"Arthur?" Arthur looked up and met eyes with his mother, crossing the yard, shaking against the cold. "Honey, it's freezing outside, you need a sweater. Please come inside."

Arthur shoved off the ground, and wrapped his mom in a one armed hug, surprising her. Her son wasn't the physical type, especially with her. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you too, sweetie."

"I miss her."

"I know. I do too."

They walked back to the house in silence, stopping short of the porch. Sharon turned to face Arthur, cupping his face in her hands.

"You look tired, dear."

"I am."

She smiled, kissing his cheek.

"Chelsea is ironing your suit. You should get ready."

"Mom?"

Sharon paused a foot away from the door and turned. Arthur was standing at the bottom of the steps, unmoving.

"I really miss her," he said, his voice breaking. She sighed, stepping down to his eye level.

"Come on, darling. We need to get ready."


	4. Chapter 4

Mom.

The phone rang seven times and went to voicemail.

Jenna.

The phone went straight to voicemail.

Chelsea.

Voicemail.

He called and called until he got to the last number he wanted to call, his true last resort.

Eames answered on the second ring.

"It's three AM, Arthur."

Silence.

"Arthur?"

Arthur stared at the phone. He hadn't really expected him to answer and now that he was talking to him, he didn't know what to say.

"Uh..."

"Arthur?"

Arthur ended the call and flopped back in bed, staring at the ceiling.

Twenty minutes later, Eames was pounding on the front door.

"Arthur, open the damn door or I'll kick it in. I'm half drunk, completely tired and I need coffee."

Worried Eames would wake the neighbors, Arthur hurried downstairs, skipping the landing and unlocking the door. Eames stumbled in, smelling like the entire bar and some of its inhabitants, nudging the door shut with his foot.

"You reek," Arthur scowled as Eames pushed past him and headed to the kitchen. "Did you bathe in Jack?"

Eames grinned, pouring himself a glass of water. "Hardly. I don't drink Jack, you know that, and at $190 a bottle, Johnny is a bit too expensive."

Arthur was disgusted. Not twelve hours removed from Ariadne's funeral and Eames had already gone back to normal.

"How many women did you leave at home to come here, Eames?" Arthur asked, his mouth thin. He could see Eames tense, his back to Arthur.

"You aren't the only one grieving, Arthur, you're just only one stuck at home. Jenna didn't answer either, did she?"

"No."

"How about Chelsea? Your mum?"

"Okay, I get it…"

It was too late for him to backtrack. Eames had turned and taken two steps towards Arthur, barely an inch from his face. "I miss her too, Arthur. I'm here because you called. If you want me to leave, I'll leave, but don't push just for pushing's sake."

"I'm not..."

"You are," Eames replied, leaning back against the counter. "I did the same thing, Arthur. You are isolating yourself on purpose, even more than usual, and if you think it's a good idea, you're wrong."

"Jesus, it's only been four days, Eames."

"And I'm not saying you need to be completely healed and ready to rally. But don't fight the desire to not be alone."

"Why do you think I called you?"

"I think you called me because no one else answered."

"I…"

"I miss her too and if you think I don't, it's because you've already shut yourself off to grief."

"Why do you keep saying that? Why do you keep telling me you miss her too?"

"Because, I just lost one of the only people in the world I could call a true friend and I'm having a hard time processing it. It's real, Arthur, that pain? It's real."

Arthur wasn't entirely sure if it was the liquor or Eames speaking but he remembered the time after Gabi died, how Eames hadn't been himself and he knew that if was ever going to listen to the man, it was now.

"Go on."

"Don't try and rationalize it, darling," he said, crossing his arms. "This isn't something you've dealt with before."

"I know."

"You don't. It's alright to be unsure, to not want to sleep in your own bed."

Arthur looked over his shoulder, where a blanket and pillow were sloppily thrown on the couch.

"Arthur," Eames said, his voice softened, "I still have her nightgown in the closet. I understand."

Arthur had nothing to say, nothing to add, so he just turned and walked into the living room and sat down heavily on the couch, crossing his left leg over his right and staring straight ahead. On the mantel over the fireplace was that same picture Asuntha had taken six years ago, ratted around the edges and not in a frame, smiling back at him and, for a second, he felt happy.

"Listen, I'm going to sleep," Eames said as he passed. "I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

Arthur grunted in his general direction, distracted by Addison's cry over the monitor. He moved to head upstairs, not quite beating Eames to her room. Arthur pushed past him, scooping the baby up out of the crib, his sleeve soaked immediately.

"Oh," he said, wrinkling his nose. "Someone's wet."

"You or her?" Eames yawned. Arthur shot him a glance, rolling his eyes. "Alright, good night."

Eames rapped on the doorframe with his knuckles twice when he passed and Arthur heard him fall into bed. He lay Addison down on the changing table, kissing her feet and talking to her in a soft voice.

"Don't worry," he said, tossing the wet diaper in the trash, "He won't always be here. Daddy was… just… Daddy was lonely."

Addison had fallen back asleep already and Arthur suddenly felt foolish, not only for referring to himself in third person, but also for talking to an infant.

He sighed and picked her up after tugging his shirt off (he didn't like being wet to begin with and the idea of being wet with urine almost made him gag) and sat down in the glider, resting her on his shoulder. He rocked for a long time, he wasn't sure how long, but when he woke up, the sun was shining and Eames was gently laying her into bed.

"What time is it?" Arthur mumbled, standing and stretching. Eames held one finger up to his lips and pointed to the clock. 8:17. Arthur's eyes grew wide as he followed him out into the hallway.

"8:15!" he exclaimed after he closed the door. Eames nodded, his back to Arthur as he shuffled down the stairs to the kitchen. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"It didn't wake you up when she was crying in your ear, so why go the extra mile?" Eames asked, his voice heavy with sleep. Arthur stopped in his tracks.

"What?"

"Mate, I've been up with her for two hours. You wouldn't budge. Your mom and sisters are on their way, you should go shower. You look like hell."

By the time he showered and came back downstairs, dressed in jeans and a cotton t-shirt, his sisters were having coffee with Eames in the kitchen, who looked to have shaved and brushed his hair and teeth. Jenna was practically physically hanging on him.

"Jen, he's not interested," Arthur grumped. Jenna frowned, stepping back, turning her face to hide the blush.

"Did you sleep last night, Artie?" Chelsea asked, nudging her sister. Arthur shook his head yes, glancing at Eames to see if he had told them about last night. Eames gave a tiny shake and Arthur breathed out.

"You're lucky," Chelsea said. "When Nathan was born, I didn't get a wink of sleep and I had help."

Chelsea trailed off as Jenna gasped a short gasp. Eames had stopped moving completely, his eyes barely flicking up to meet Arthur's. Arthur forced a smile, squeezing Chelsea's hand.

"It's okay. Besides, you and I both know that Geoff is a lump on a log anyway."

"Haha, yeah," Chelsea laughed, sighing. She hadn't meant to bring up Ariadne's absence.

"Hey," Arthur said, bumping his sister with his hip, "it's okay, really."

"Mom!" Chelsea's son Nathan came tearing down the hallway, crashing into Eames as he rounded the corner blindly. Nathan fell to the ground, sliding backwards a few inches, staring up at Eames. "Whoa, sorry Mr. Eames."

"S'all right, Nate," Eames said, offering the kid a hand up.

"Mom, Mom, Mom," Nathan said, tugging on Chelsea's shirt. Chelsea looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Mom, Dad said that we could go to the beach if you said it was okay, but that you have to come and Mom, I really want to go to the beach and I promise I'll play with Gretchen if you come, so please say yes, please!"

"Wow," Eames mouthed to Arthur, who was laughing into his coffee mug. "Please Mom, please, can we go?"

"Tell Dad that yes, we can go, if Uncle Arthur says it's okay," she said, looking at Arthur, who nodded.

It didn't take long after they'd gotten permission to leave than did they go. Arthur sat at the kitchen table with Eames and Jenna, who was currently making silly faces at the baby, finishing breakfast as Chelsea and her family piled into their car and left.

The sun shining through the window was matte and sleepy and Arthur found himself lost in thought, not hearing what Eames was saying to him. His mind wandered through the last six years, snapshots in time that were, for the most part, happy.

"Arthur? Arthur?"

Arthur sighed, looking at Eames. "What?"

"I said Cobb wants to know if he can bring the kids to see the baby. I asked you six times, did you not hear me?"

"No. I mean, yes, he can bring the kids, no, I didn't hear you."

"I'm going to go put a new outfit on her," Jenna smiled, going upstairs. Eames followed her out with his eyes, before turning back to Arthur.

"You lay a finger on her, I'll kill you," Arthur said before Eames had a chance to say anything. Eames put his hands up.

"Dually noted."


End file.
